


hide, hide, i have burned your bridges

by queenhawke



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Library Fix-It, Spoilers for The Time of the Doctor, mentions of Doctor/Romana + other ships, that fixes nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 06:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenhawke/pseuds/queenhawke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tasha, Tasha...” he murmurs, unable to keep himself from filling the silence. “What the hell kind of name is Tasha anyway?”<br/>“It's ceremonial. Tasha Lem was the name of the first High Priestess of the Church. The name is passed down from one Mother Superious to the next. We give up our own name when we take up our duty, giving ourselves wholly to the Church.”<br/>A pause.<br/>“I liked River Song. River Song was a beautiful name."</p>
            </blockquote>





	hide, hide, i have burned your bridges

**Author's Note:**

> Here's something upbeat to cheer you up after watching Eleven regenerate! And by upbeat I mean HA. No.  
> Title from 'Gun' by CHVRCHES

“Your hair's turning grey.”

The Doctor looks up from his box of marshmallows (there are pink ones, thankfully). It's ninety-six years into the siege of Trenzalore, and he's having one of his yearly meetings with the Mother Superious of the Papal Mainframe. Well, they'd started out as yearly. They might have slipped into a bi-monthly pattern. He's grateful for it, and not just because of the marshmallows (though they are a definite plus). He enjoys her company, the long talks, the chess games, the... other things. He feels a bit guilty about the other things, like he's taking advantage of her. Then again, she's the one who instigated it. And then proposed they didn't talk about it. He'd agreed, and pretended she hadn't just taken a tiny invisible knife and twisted it into his hearts.

He frowns. “And you seem to not have aged a bit. Rather rude, if you ask me.”

She laughs. “I'm against aging. Tedious process.”

“Yes, you mentioned.”

“You should try not aging sometime. How will you defend Trenzalore when you're old and feeble and your mind's gone?” She's observing him, hands folded underneath her chin. She's got that piercing gaze that makes him look away, uncomfortable.

“It's not like I can control it,” he mutters. She was right, of course, she was always right. He couldn't do this forever. His joints were starting to ache, wounds didn't heal as fast as they had before. But damn her if she thought he was just going to run away because he was getting _old_.

“Some Time Lords can.”

“Yes, well, I'll phone them, shall I? Ask them for tips. Should probably not ask Rassilon though, he gets ever so touchy about immortality.” When all he gets is silence, he scoffs. “You're just worried you'll have to kiss an old man.”

“My personal pleasure is not relevant. And either way, you should know that I do not care how you look.” He glances at her, startled at how hurt she sounds. She's the one looking away now, gazing off into the distance, jaw set. He shakes his head.

“Tasha –”

“It's your move.” She waves a hand at the chess set. Sighing, he picks a piece at random and moves it.

“You're supposed think ahead, Doctor.”

He folds his arms like a cross child. “I'm not in the mood for chess.” Silence again. Blimey, she was really serious about this new path for the church. Why couldn't it have been more fun, like the Church of Drowning Out The Doctor's Voice With Rock 'N Roll. At least then they could have danced. He missed dancing with her.

“Tasha, Tasha...” he murmurs, unable to keep himself from filling the silence. “What the hell kind of name is Tasha anyway?”

“It's ceremonial.” She's still speaking to thin air rather than him, but at least she's talking. “Tasha Lem was the name of the first High Priestess of the Church. The name is passed down from one Mother Superious to the next. We give up our own name when we take up our duty, giving ourselves wholly to the Church.”

A pause.

“I liked River Song. River Song was a beautiful name,” he says softly. Finally, she turns to look at him.

“Figured it out, did you?”

“Ages ago. D'you really think I wouldn't recognise my own wife just because she was wearing a different face?”

“You didn't say anything.”

“Neither did you.”

There's an uncomfortable silence again, and oh, how he hates those. They never had those before. They'd banter and flirt and laugh and shout at each other, and yes, sometimes they were quiet, but it was a nice quiet. A comforting quiet, both knowing they didn't need to say anything because the other already knew what they were thinking. This isn't anything like that. Something is missing. Something is wrong.

“How'd you get out of the Library?” he asks, desperate for some sort of conversation.

“One of Clara's echoes.”

He smiles, says, “Of course. Remind me to thank her for that.”

“Hm. She's very smart. And kind. And pretty.”

He frowns. “We're not... Clara and I are just friends.”

She gives him a strange look, caught between disappointed and relieved. “A shame. She's an excellent kisser.” He stares at her in shock. “What?” she laughs (and it's a very River-like laugh). “I was very grateful and she is very pretty. One has to thank her knight in shining armour properly.” Casually, she reaches out to the chess board and takes one of his pawns with her own knight. “She gave me a new body and everything.”

“Doesn't have the hair, though.”

“My old body burned. I like this one, it's less... wild. More Tasha.”

He swallows a lump in his throat. Was this what it felt like for his companions when he changed? When he discarded his old bodies and became a new Doctor? Because if so, he was glad he was on his last life. Sure, he'd obviously witnessed Time Lords regenerating before, but they hadn't been his wife. His River. Oh, he'd loved Romana, but the first time she regenerated she did it just for the hell of it, and he'd be lying if he said her new personality wasn't a bit more pleasant. The second time... well, yes, it had been tough. But it was the Time War and she was Lady President of Gallifrey, he understood that she needed to be harsher, colder. He'd followed her example later, hadn't he? And they were together again, her the leader and him, her warrior.

River... River was _River_. The beautiful, mad woman he'd fallen for and who had fallen for him. His bespoke psychopath. The daughter of his Ponds. She who was his equal in every way.

They didn't feel equal now. She is towering above him. Head of the Papal Mainframe. Mother Superious. Tasha Lem. Was there even anything left of his wife? Anything at all? It was like he had to discover all her secrets all over again. Back at square one, only this time he would not tolerate 'spoilers'.

“Why the Church? Why come here, of all places? They _created_ you, River. They stole you away from your parents, ruined your childhood –”

“I have made it clear time and time again that I would _never_ , _ever_ change my past,” she snaps, rage suddenly burning in her eyes. “I chose this, Doctor. I chose this life. I chose to die for you and all those people in the Library. I chose the Church because I felt like I could do good here.” He makes to protest but she holds up a hand, silencing him. “I know, Doctor. I know me coming to Trenzalore and creating the Church of the Silence caused my own childhood. I watched the Kovarian faction break away and put their own traps for you together. I watched them take me away from Amy and Rory –” And here her voice finally breaks slightly, a lone tear rolls down her face, and there it is, there's _River_ – “And I did nothing. I _chose_ to do nothing. Not one line, remember? I will always stick by that. It is my life. I created it. I chose how it began and I will eventually choose how it ends.” She's trembling now, from anger or grief, he doesn't know. He wants to reach out to her. He wants to console her, comfort her, apologise to her, but he finds he has no idea how to anymore.

“River...”

“ _Tasha_. My name is Tasha. Your move.”

Angrily, he takes a tower from the chess set and smashes it down at random, nearly splitting the wooden board. “You're River, you'll always be River,” he insists, because damnit, all he wants is his wife back. She is sitting right there and yet she isn't, _and yet she has to_.

“River Song died in the Library.”

“But you didn't! You got out, and you didn't tell me. I don't – I don't _understand_ , River. You actively _lied_ to me. Pretending you hadn't seen this body before. Why didn't you just _tell_ me?” Tears are welling up in his eyes, but he fights them back. He has to stay calm. He has to know why she'd done this. There had to be a reason why she would lie to him like this.

Annoyance flickers across her face. “And tell me, what good would telling you have done?” He gapes at her.

“ _I thought you were dead!_ ”

She stands up so suddenly and fast that the table shakes, knocking over a few chess pieces. “Yes you did.” Her voice is calm but her face is dark, angry. “You said goodbye. You moved on.”

“I didn't bloody _want_ to move on!” he shouts. Sod being calm, he needs her to know how he feels. For once, he is going to tell her exactly what is on his mind. No more walls. No more hiding the damage. “I only moved on because I had no choice! You keep talking about you wanting to make your own decisions, but what about _me_? I'm your husband, River!”

“You're a _widower_.”

“Stop – just stop talking like that! Like you're dead.” He stands up too, briskly walking over to her, joints protesting slightly. “You're _here_ , River.” He grabs her shoulders, forces her to look at him. “I'm here. We can fix this together.” She meets his eye with a gaze like steel.

“And what do you propose we do? Save Trenzalore? Hop into your TARDIS when she decides to materialise again and go be married again?” _Yes_ , he wants to tell her, _yes yes yes forever and ever_. “It would have to end eventually. And my duties are with the Church now, not with you.”

He turns away from her, frustrated, muttering to himself, “What is it with blonde-haired Time Ladies whose name starts with an 'R' and leaving me for their 'duties'?”

“Ah, and what would have happened if you'd taken Romana with you? If she had never stayed in E-Space? If she hadn't become Lady President of Gallifrey? Would you have sacrificed all the good she did just so she could stay with you?”

“I – no, I –”

“Then please, bury River Song. Let Tasha Lem and the Papal Mainframe help you. Because I am trying to help you.”

He laughs bitterly. “Oh really? And how did hooking up with a younger me help? How did shagging me _now_ help? Or was that all for the good of the Church?” She looks away, a blush creeping up her neck and he feels a small spark of triumph.

“I – it took a long while to adjust to this body. Going from the Library back into the real world was... complicated. And then you were there, a younger you. I knew you wouldn't recognise me so I... I'm sorry. I took advantage. I know I shouldn't have done it, but I was confused, not myself yet.” Her eyes are wet now, his triumph turns into guilt. “I mean, do you think this was _easy_ for me?” She faces him again, and while she is definitely crying, her expression is one of defiance. “Do you think I didn't grieve? Giving you up was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, but I _had_ to. And then you were here, _my_ Doctor, the one I'd married... and God, making you get all flustered, it was just like old times. So I slept with you. I thought you didn't know me, I thought one time couldn't hurt... and then one time turned into more times and...” She's properly sobbing now, the paint around her eyes running in darks streaks down her face. He's never seen her like this, she never allowed him to see how much she hurt inside. “It was a mistake, I'm sorry. I'd just missed it. I'd missed _us_ , so much.” Tears are flowing down his face, too. He doesn't try to fight it. Instead he walks over to her, wraps his arms around her. She buries her head in his neck and he almost buries his hands in her hair when he remembers. No more curls.

“Please, River... Please come back to me.”

“ _Tasha_ ,” she gasps between sobs. Tilting her head up, she looks at him, one hand stroking his cheek. Her eyes are so familiar and yet... “It's Tasha. River is _gone_ , Doctor. I realised, when we... when we were together, it wasn't the same. I know you felt it too. Because I'm not your wife anymore. And yes, a part of me will always be River, just like a part of me will always be Mels, will always be Melody, will always be a weapon of the Silence. But _your_ River, your wife, she is gone. Please, Doctor, you have to move on. For your own sake. Staying together will only cause us both more pain.”

“I can't –”

“Yes you can. I know you can. You've done it before. Your wife and family on Gallifrey, Susan, Romana, Charley, the Master, Rose, my parents... all your friends and companions, people you've lost.” She smiles sadly, brushes a thumb against his temple. His eyes flutter shut. “Just remember them. Go back to Trenzalore, tell the children of Christmas stories of all those people you loved, and people who loved you. Tell them –” her voice breaks again “– tell them about River Song. About your wife. Who loved you so, so much. Just... _remember_. And then love again.”

“What's the point? I'm going to die on Trenzalore.” He refuses to open his eyes. If he can't see her face he can pretend... he can pretend she's here.

“Oh, Doctor. Time can be rewritten.” His hearts skip a beat hearing her say that phrase.

“Could you... you haven't once called me 'sweetie'. I just...”

He can almost hear her sad smile. “Only River Song gets to call you that.”

“I loved it when she called me that.”

“I know.”

“I loved her.”

“She knew.”

They stand there, entwined, for what appear to be forever. Finally, he opens his eyes again. Takes a deep breath.

“Can I still see Tasha?” he asks softly. And then she smiles, a genuine smile. A Tasha Lem smile.

“Of course. Though I think we should keep to once a year again.” He nods silently. “Well then,” she says, stroking a hand through his greying hair.

“I believe you need to save Christmas.”


End file.
